Chirrut flinches at the recitation of injuries. He didn't realize he'd been so brutal.

"I lost my focus, and my temper." He recites, to the floor - this has happened before, but usually it has been caught before he'd worked himself into that foul a mood.

"And what were you to do in such a time?" Her tone is implacable. Chirrut's is bleak.

"Find you, Master Sheotar."